


The Leviathan’s Cross

by CinnabarMint



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Branding, Hastur Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired by Art, M/M, The Bastille, Torture, What happened after the Bastille, first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnabarMint/pseuds/CinnabarMint
Summary: Crowley was in the Bastille with his angel, then they got crepes and he walked Aziraphale to the docks. He started on his way to the Executioner’s square when he ran into Hastur and Ligur.Or more like Hastur and Ligur ran his skull into the cobbled street until he was unconscious.A.k.a. What happened after The Bastille. And what happened when Aziraphale found out.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).
  * Inspired by [??](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/576619) by Whiteley Foster. 



> This is an answer to an illustration by Whiteley Foster
> 
> https://whiteleyfoster.tumblr.com/post/612696416045957120/loyalties-fyre-good-omens-neil-gaiman
> 
> Enjoy

“Put that there, we need it hot.”

Crowley wakes up to the sound of hushed voices and metal clattering on stone, the smell of brimstone fills his nostrils and sweat drips from his brow. He feels as if his head’s about to crack open any moment now. He tries to make sense of the jumbled memories and to remember how he got here in the first place.

_ He was in the Bastille with his angel, then they got crepes and he walked Aziraphale to the docks, made sure the Angel got himself safe on a boat bound back to London. He started on his way to the Executioner’s square to make sure the idiot who had intended to kill Aziraphale got what he deserved when he ran into Hastur and Ligur. _

_ Or more like Hastur and Ligur ran his skull into the cobbled street until he was unconscious. _

That explains the headache.

“Crawly, Crawly, Crawly. Back in Hell where he belongs” 

“Duke Hastur, what an honour”. Crowley slurs through the pain.

“You thought you could get away with that, eh?” Ligur’s voice lurks from the shadows behind Crowley. He sounds mirthful, that’s never a good sign.

“Wah?”

“Your little good deed?”, Hastur strikes Crowley on the cheek to drive his point home, “saving old people from the guillotine?”, another hit, Crowley feels his lip break open. “You think Heaven’s gonna take little old Crawly back?”

Wait. Saving old people? Not saving angels.

Thank Someone.

“I’m fomenting discord! When they realize they just killed their best executioner they’ll riot”

“You reek of good, serpent” Hastur spits on his face, ”Like yoúre a bloody angel”. He gives Crowley a cruel smile as he reaches to the shadows, where Ligur hands him a branding iron with the Leviathan’s Cross. The symbol of Hell. “Perhaps you need a little reminder”.

Crowley tries to get away when he realizes he’s tied up to a chair and his shirt is already opened. “Are you insane? Lord Beelzebub will discorporate you for this. I just started the French Revolution” He tightens his body like a snake about to strike.

“They’re not here.”, Ligur looks delighted.

“Now hold still, Crawly. This will look lovely on your neck”.

Crowley watches Hastur approach with the branding iron pointing to his pulsepoint as he tries to think. A mark on his neck is something Aziraphale will notice. Hastur lunges in but Crowley’s faster. He snaps up, catching the brand just below his shoulder, he screams as he feels the skin sizzling and melting under the white hot metal. Ligur cackles. Hastur is merciless, pushing the iron onto Crowley’s skin with more hate than skill, almost breaking the bone underneath.

An eternity later Crowley sags. Hastur spits on him again.

“Next time it will be your wings, you flash bastard” He snaps his fingers.

Crowley lies on the cobbled street that saw him last in Paris, feeling the earth sway beneath him and the sky swirl. He sits and vomits on the side of the street. He reaches to rest his head against a wall trying to examine the burnt flesh. At least he can hide it from the Angel. He’d never forgive himself if he knew he put Crowley in danger.

Crowley tries to crack his neck, gasping when the pain stops him. He raises from the ground, sighs, and decides to sleep for a decade.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Aziraphale finds out

Crowley is elated. Not only did they manage to destroy a nazi spy ring and recover the books unharmed. He also recovered Aziraphale. For almost a century he feared that their fight at Saint James Park was the one last bitter memory he would have of his best friend. Now as the Bentley roars he can feel the blood rushing in his unnecessary veins. Heart beating the joyous thump of reunion.

Once they reach the bookshop he opens Aziraphale’s door for him and offers his arm. The Angel looks at him funny, like he’s lost at sea and he wants to scream and cry and burst into laughter. Maybe Crowley made a mistake, as happy as he is he still noticed the Angel didn’t utter a single word on their way back. It’s fine, Crowley can just accompany Aziraphale inside, make sure he’s okay and leave him to his beloved books.

As soon as the lock clicks shut behind them, Crowley’s pushed against the door by Aziraphale, who is pressing hot desperate kisses to his mouth and holding him as if he was gonna lose him forever.

“Don’t. You. Ever. Dare. Do that. To me. Again”, Aziraphale demands between kisses.

“Angel, what?”

“Seventy nine years, Crowley! Not a word from you. I thought I’d lost you forever”, Aziraphale bites the underside of his jaw, sending sparks flying in his head. He keeps kissing, nuzzling Crowley’s neck, “And then you saunter into a church looking like that and it was like having my heart broken all over again”.

Crowley takes his glasses off and embraces Aziraphale hard, swaying a little. Holding the angel tight to his chest.

“No Angel, you can never lose me. You understand? Never”. Crowley feels tears dampening his neck. Aziraphale’s mouth doesn’t relent.

“Just. Shut up you foul fiend”, Aziraphale kisses desperately, as if trying to make up for lost time. As if trying to convince himself that he has Crowley back. He kisses and kisses, loosening Crowley’s tie and unmaking the first button of his shirt without pausing his lips.

Crowley’s starting to melt under his Angel’s mouth on his left clavicle, when he feels Aziraphale freeze.

“Crowley, what is this?”

“Mh?”, he shakes his head a bit so he can think clearly and then he remembers.

“No, no. It’s nothing, Angel. Just a tattoo”

“A tattoo that burns? I can’t feel my mouth, Crowley. What is happening?”

“Shit. No” He closes his eyes, “You were never supposed to find that”, curse the angel’s soft exquisite lips.

“Dear, what is it?”

Crowley looks up, silently begging for Aziraphale to drop the subject but his eyes are stern. Crowley sighs and covers his face with his hands.

“Remember Paris, 1793?”

“Yes? What does that have to do with anything?”

“After you left, Hastur and Ligur found me”

“Wait, did they see us?”, Aziraphale blanched.

“No, no, no. Angel. Well, yes but no. They saw me freeing some old man from the Bastille” He swallowed, “After the docks, they found me and knocked me out. They took me downstairs and put this thing on me. They said”, he doesn’t want to say it, he really doesn’t want to say it, because it will put blame on Aziraphale “They said that I reeked of Good. Like an Angel”.

Aziraphale expression turns from concerned to outright horrified. He takes three steps away from Crowley crossing his arms over his chest. Crowley makes to follow, but Aziraphale jumps “No! Don’t touch me Crowley”, his voice trembles, “that was made with hellfire, wasn’t it? That’s why it burns. And now you smell like me again. How foolish must I-” He paces the room hugging himself tight, “We can’t keep doing this, Crowley”

“Doing what?” Crowley’s mind refuses to pick the pace

“This. You, me. I’m putting you in so much danger” He bites his lip and looks away. He starts crying, “I can't do this to you”.

Crowley watches Aziraphale, helplessly. He doesn’t want to make that request again, he doesn’t want to lose Aziraphale again, so soon. But he realizes, as he looks at his arms empty of angel, that he’s lost already unless he does something. He needs him to understand. He closes the space between them in two long strides and takes Aziraphale by the shoulders, shaking him.

“Holy water, Aziraphale. That’s why I asked for the Holy Water”

Aziraphale pales even further, “What do you mean?”

“I need Holy Water to defend myself if they come for me again”

“No! Don’t you see?”, Aziraphale’s voice is hysterical, “They can use it to destroy you too. If you misstep or they send many or, or, or”, He shouts, “You can’t ask that of me. You can’t ask me to kill you, Crowley. Don’t pretend you-” His rant is cut off by a sob and he starts pitching forward.

“Aziraphale” Crowley hugs him and caresses his back slowly, “I’m trying to protect myself so that I’m safe. So that we are safe.”

“I can’t lose you Crowley. Not again”, the sobs come back, “Don’t make me choose to lose you”.

Crowley hugs Aziraphale until the tears subside. He guides him to his chair in the backroom, and remains there, caressing his angel until he falls on a light sleep, exhausted by everything he felt today.

Silently, he leaves.

For almost 20 years Aziraphale can’t find his peace, there’s alway a guilt eating him from the inside. Making him worry and wonder if this time he’s done something damning enough to guarantee Crowley’s demise. When he hears rumors of a caper in a church, he knows in an instant who’s behind it, and what it entails.

Aziraphale goes out on a sunny day. He buys a tartan thermos, fills it with water, breathes. And then makes the hardest choice of his life.


End file.
